I know some lonely houses off the road
\nA robber ‘d like the look of, —
\nWooden barred,
\nAnd windows hanging low,
\nInviting to
\nA portico,
\nWhere two could creep:
\nOne hand the tools,
\nThe other peep
\nTo make sure all’s asleep.
\nOld-fashioned eyes,
\nNot easy to surprise!<\/p>\n
How orderly the kitchen ‘d look by night,
\nWith just a clock, —
\nBut they could gag the tick,
\nAnd mice won’t bark;
\nAnd so the walls don’t tell,
\nNone will.<\/p>\n
A pair of spectacles ajar just stir —
\nAn almanac’s aware.
\nWas it the mat winked,
\nOr a nervous star?
\nThe moon slides down the stair
\nTo see who’s there.<\/p>\n
There’s plunder, — where?
\nTankard, or spoon,
\nEarring, or stone,
\nA watch, some ancient brooch
\nTo match the grandmamma,
\nStaid sleeping there.<\/p>\n
Day rattles, too,
\nStealth’s slow;
\nThe sun has got as far
\nAs the third sycamore.
\nScreams chanticleer,
\n“Who’s there?”
\nAnd echoes, trains away,
\nSneer — “Where?”
\nWhile the old couple, just astir,
\nFancy the sunrise left the door ajar!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"